


Welcome to the gun show

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney McKay had never been particularly fond of guns. They were useful, and they should clearly be in the hands of professionals, and all right, yes, he wasn't exactly a pacifist. He liked explosions far too much ever to be anything but a gleeful warmonger in his own enjoyed-being-employed kind of way. Even if his aim had its moments of... lowered quality, there was no reason he couldn't appreciate the visuals of a gun. Of the way a thigh holster bunched up a man's tactical pants, highlighting all the best parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the gun show

Rodney McKay had never been particularly fond of guns. They were useful, and they should clearly be in the hands of professionals, and all right, yes, he wasn't exactly a pacifist. He liked explosions far too much ever to be anything but a gleeful warmonger in his own enjoyed-being-employed kind of way.

Still.

Even if his aim had its moments of... lowered quality, there was no reason he couldn't appreciate the visuals of a gun. Of the way a thigh holster bunched up a man's tactical pants, highlighting all the best parts.

Seriously. The _best_ parts, and the way John Sheppard slouched against a table eating an apple as if the damn things (pants and gun both) didn't make him the hottest thing since... well. Ever, pretty much. It made Rodney's teeth clench just thinking about it and then he shifted just right, looking all military and hot and it was nearly unbearable just seeing him there.

"Hey, buddy."

"Do you have to just lean there with your crotch out? You're doing that on purpose." He was sure of it, because Jesus, Sheppard never poured himself into a natural position.

"Doing what on purpose?" Yeah, that was one sly fucking grin there, and he slid a hand down his BDUs, over the straps, and fuck. The look of it all together was sinful and sex and made him want to blow him right there.

The effect dress blues had on him didn't even come close.

Dress blues were gorgeous in their own right because John cleaned up exquisitely, but the way the holster highlighted everything was just... "You know what you're doing." Making it hard to concentrate, and damn the work he was doing on the computer. Fuck.

There was nothing else for it. If he didn't get it over with, he wouldn't be able to stand himself much longer. John was just standing there all long-waisted, t-shirt tucked into his BDUs, thigh strap obscene, looking all military and stupidly hot.

Rodney exhaled in a huff, and closed his laptop lid calmly, slowly. Took the time to take another deep breath before he pushed back his chair and stood. That got him an interesting look, a little wild-eyed, a lot reckless. The door slid shut and he could hear the lock engage in short order. "Yeah, Rodney?"

"I can't have you distracting me like that, all come hither eyes and hip stuck out, the holster just making your package look massive. I know you struggle with it, but you're not actually a street walker, Sheppard..." Said the man who was making his way over to John with the full intent of dropping to his knees.

Yeah, that was fucking filthy, the way he shifted, tilted his head back and gave Rodney that grin. "Could be. If you asked right." Jesus fuck. Military porn. He was living military porn.

He exhaled, reached out to hook his fingers in under the nylon strap around John's thigh. It wasn't even like John did it for show -- they needed to be armed at all times, just in case someone came through the gate. Or through the sky. Or the city turned something on them. Or... "Just unzip yourself already."

Unzip and let him do what he wanted. It was ridiculous and a little fetishistic (or maybe a lot) and John was reaching for his zipper with a nonchalance that was clearly completely false. He could tell by the faint tremor of his fingers, the way John thumbed open the button and tugged down his boxers, exposing himself slowly, all sexy stripper lieutenant colonel, and it wasn't real, but it was. The tremor made it real for him as he knelt down in front of John, fingers hovering against John's hip. He smelled like sweat, and confinement, and like damn Old Spice.

The fact that he found that hot had to be abnormal. Then again, his reaction to the sight of the thigh holster and BDUs wasn't exactly all that normal either. Normal didn't really belong in an ancient city, and wasn't something he bothered with as he pushed the elastic waistband down further and leaned in to mouth John's balls.

"Fuck." Yeah, and the way John said that kind of said it all. Said he loved it, said that was what he'd been angling to get. His right hand clenched hard at the edge of Rodney's desk and his left landed lightly against the back of his neck, fingers stroking. "Yeah. Yeah, that's..."

Warm skin, hair, a familiar smell, and John's drop holster brushing against his shoulder. There was something particularly thrilling about sucking cock in the most manly profession in the world. Something that made his skin tingle, made him moan and abandon John's balls to lick a wide stripe up the bottom side of his dick. Thank god he had the good manners to keep himself properly manscaped. Considering how hairy he was, Rodney would probably be choking on hair before he got close to the enjoyable parts of the experience.

"Hmnhmn." He liked the way John tasted, liked that he could lick his way up to the crown of John's dick, wrapping his fingers around the base. That he could take his time and John knew the manners involved with getting a good blowjob. John knew not to push his hips too far forwards, knew not to grab him by his ears and try fucking into his throat. Instead, he stayed still and bit his lip, letting out soft secret noises, the kind of sounds that said he was infinitely familiar with having to hide his pleasure, hold it secret. Uniform's fault as well, Rodney supposed as he tipped his head back and tongued John's piss slit slowly, lazily. The thing of it was that he only got what he dished out, him and his BDUs and his ridiculously hot thigh holster. Teasing Rodney was guaranteed to make him difficult, just because he could be.

It wasn't like it was a really bad thing that John was getting. Rodney liked to think of himself as a blow job artisan, lips parting slowly to take just the head into his mouth. A little friction, a little suction, it was all basic physics. A little bit of applied knowledge went a long way and John was rocking his hips just a bit now, practically asking for more. Well, who wouldn't? Rodney might doubt a lot of things about himself, but he had never been shy about lauding his skills. "Jesus, Rodney."

He pulled back, slurping and sliding his tongue around John's cockhead . "I bet I could get you to say worse things if I stopped..."

"God, McKay, could you just fucking..." Yeah. Yeah, he still had it, had Sheppard right where he wanted him, and that felt like serious power right now.

"Get on with it?" Rodney prompted, licking his bottom lip before he leaned back in to lick John's tip.

"Yeah." Yeah, and he tugged a bit then, rocked his hips. "C'mon. Please?"

That was lovely, please. He always did like it when his partners asked nicely.

John was good at it, at asking nicely, at lingering just right, at doing what Rodney wanted to get what John wanted. It worked for everyone, beautifully, and the sex was amazing. The sex was fantastic, and John curled forwards over him, breathing in deeply. "Jesus, Rodney." His voice shook like his fingers, and Rodney loved it.

He hummed around John's cock, the thick heaviness of it lingering against the roof of his mouth as he gave John a hard suck. It earned him a fantastic noise and a bit more of a curl, and he wondered how long John had been standing there looking hot and thinking about this. Long enough that he was desperate pretty fast, and one hand landed on his shoulder, grasping it tightly.

No pull in, though Rodney volunteered that, curling fingers against the fabric of John's BDUs, clutching tight as he sucked harder. The material was thick and bunched beneath his fingers, material familiar and god, so good. So fucking fantastic that he wanted to rub off against it but he was enjoying having his hands on John too much. Loved it and he was so close to being done. So close. He wanted to hear it, wanted to feel John clinging to his shoulders while he fought off the urge to facefuck him. Fought it hard and then failed, because he started shifting, moving, and there it was. There, and Rodney moaned into it, one hand fumbling down desperately to rub against himself through his pants.

He had to, he just had to, because he was already aching and dripping and wanting more, so much more. He wanted to be fucked over his table, but that took time and they always had to be careful. In a funny way, that was part of the kink of it, but God. God, and then John was blowing his load and Rodney moaned and swallowed, and swallowed. Stroked himself off furiously, grip rougher than he usually used, just to get there, just not to lose the pace of the moment. He kept sucking at John, stroking harder, and when he came in his pants it was fucking blinding.

When he managed to open his eyes and look up at John, he looked.. hot and sexy and completely wrecked and smug. "God, that was..."

"Perfect?" Rodney offered, lifting his hand up to rub at the edge of his mouth. He wasn't all that surprised when John reached down, thumb rubbing gently across the skin just below his lower lip.

"Yeah," John murmured. "Yeah."


End file.
